Acquainted With the Night
by FireChestnut
Summary: As he watches the mottled-gray sky above, Rorschach hears a commotion in a near-by alley and comes to the aid of a younger woman. With the help of Daniel, they unmask what would later become a future Vigilante.


_Hello everyone! I've taken a break from writing "I've got my spine" I have half the chapter written and will have it beta'd soon. I just finished watching Watchmen last weekend, and loved it. I'm a huge fan of Alan Moore and the comic itself. Rorschach has to be my favourite character by far. My OC, or more-so "random girl's" identity will be revealed later on in the story. AND PLEASE REVIEW, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. IF YOU READ IT, REVIEW IT. THANKS!_

_~chestnut _

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_**I have been one acquainted with the night.**_

_**I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.**_

_**I have outwalked the furthest city light.**_

_**I have looked down the saddest city lane.**_

_**I have passed by the watchman on his beat**_

_**And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.**_

_**I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet**_

_**When far away an interrupted cry**_

_**Came over houses from another street,**_

_**But not to call me back or say good-bye;**_

_**And further still at an unearthly height,**_

_**A luminary clock against the sky**_

_**Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.**_

_**I have been one acquainted with the night. Acquainted With the Night-Robert Frost**_

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When the city sleeps at night, and the rain is pouring down the gutters at an alarming rate; you can see him perched up on the highest building, watching the crumbling city below. Thugs, rapists, and gang bangers are the usual victims of Rorschach's viscous thrashings. He used to be soft, he used to be lenient on the scum of the city. But now he didn't care. Some were left dead, others tried to crawl away on compound fractures. He had no emotion for these people, but without them Rorschach would be nothing. An entire city built on the dead.

_Rorschach's Journal, November 8, 1985_

_Took care of a few thugs tonight, they got what they deserved. I watched Dan from the comforts of my rooftop post, watching as he got friendly with Laurie. I can't stand Laurie, or her persona either. The Silk Specter is a fat, old whore living in Santa Cruz. I have the feeling that Laurie might turn out the same way. Silk Specter II or not, her fate is sealed._

The rain never stopped, and as morning slowly broke out over the shimmering horizon of the ocean, Rorschach was exhausted.

"NO." He heard someone yell in a firm, and assertive voice. It sounded female. Rorschach realized the noise was coming from directly underneath him, in a discarded alley which was littered with needles and condom wrappers. A man was advancing on a teenaged girl, his arms raised in attack mode. The girl looked to be maybe 17 or 18. She had a hard, firm look on her face, not like the others who simply cowered. The man lunged at her, but she was too quick. She dashed to the side and delivered a fast punch to the back of his skull.

"_You little bitch!" _ He roared as he rubbed the back of his head. He pulled out a switchblade, and the girl must have realized that her fight was going to get much harder. She took a wide swing at him, her knuckles connecting with his temple. With another furious roar, he swiftly slashed at her leg. It was inches away from her femoral artery. It was close, too close.

Rorschach couldn't sit and watch any longer. With a swift swing of his leg, he was falling gracefully to the ground below. The man didn't have time to register the thud on the ground, and the mysterious cloaked man advancing on him quickly. The girl, realizing she was being helped, grabbed the man from under his armpits and turned to face the cloaked figure. Rorschach realized what she was doing, and proceeded to use the man as a punching bag. When he was finally unconscious, the girl fell to the ground, her wound making its self present.

He wasn't one to help women, especially when it involved physical contact. She would be fine if he left her here; women are whores, they can take care of themselves. But she was young, too young for the world to make an impression her. Rorschach remembered when he was young, when he was Walter.

"Are you just going to stand there?" She said quietly, one bloody hand pressed firmly against her jeans. He stood there for quite some time, analyzing her. The women of New York dressed in a way that Rorschach labeled either "prostitute" or "prostitute." The ones who knew Adrian especially seemed to have the mentality that low cut dresses would get them a one-night stand with the world's smartest man. But thankfully Adrian was a man of principles, and Rorschach was a man of integrity. He was snapped back into reality after staring at her loose, thin sweater. She had managed to propel her body upwards, and grabbed onto his forearm, which was shoved into the depths of his trench-coat pocket. She wobbled uneasily on her feet before getting her balance back.

"Walk." She said quietly. Rorschach made a "hurm" noise in the back of his throat. "I don't care where you walk, just do it." And as if he were learning to walk all over again, Rorschach took a tentative step forward, and then again; obviously new to the sensation of someone hanging onto his arm. He walked out of the alley, and into the darkened streets.

As she drifted off into unconsciousness again, Rorschach was suddenly pulled down the ground along with her. He quickly put his right knee out in front of him to catch his fall. She wasn't so lucky. She hit her head on the sidewalk, and Rorschach knew he would have to deal with this. He didn't know why, but she brought back memories of the six year old girl he was trying to save; the night Walter Kovacs became Rorschach. The girl who was fed to dogs. Rorschach still had vivid dreams of hitting the bastard's head over and over with the Chinese meat cleaver, taking the most absolute pleasure in feeling his blood spatter against his mask. The only possession Rorschach kept in his pockets either than his grappling, make that Dan's grappling gun, was the girls photo and a few sticks of gum.

He held the photo close to her face, admiring the stark resemblance to the girl. Her bone structure, her eye color. Rorschach shook his head and put the photo back into his pocket. He felt his jaw clench as a few prostitutes walked past, cat calling as they looked over their shoulders at his hunched form. He would remember their faces when they were being raped behind the triple X movie theatre, it happened often, and Rorschach didn't help them. They chose that life. He slung the girl over his shoulder and placed his gloved hand on the small of her back. He firmly gripped the fabric of her sweater before firing the grappling gun onto a near by fire escape.

Shairp was on his ass again when he emerged from his apartment, not as Rorschach, but as Walter.

"Do you have the rent money?" She asked sternly, an infant hanging from her near exposed breast. Walter looked at her coldly before handing her the money. The whore didn't even have the money to get an ice machine, even when she charged a ridiculously large amount for the rent. Walter grumbled as he briskly jogged to the motel across the street. He filled up the bucked with ice, and was back quickly. His mask was stuffed in his pocket, and he put this on before entering his apartment.

She mumbled something in her sleep as Rorschach pressed the cloth filled with ice against the back of her head. She was cradled in his arms, although it made him extremely uncomfortable.

His apartment was filthy. Discarded food containers littered the floor, and unexplainable stains made the carpet sticky and unpleasant to walk upon. He inspected his bathroom, the thick, musky odor of uncleaned toilet hitting his nostrils. The shower curtain was stained and badly maimed with cuts and holes. The bath was tiny and unused, a film of soap scum and dirt building up around the edges. He ran his finger down the side of the sink, grimaced, and wiped his finger against the even dirtier face towel hanging on the semi-broken towel rack. The lights flickered on and off, starkly illuminating his masked face. The mirror was another story. Caked with blood smears from all the times he cut himself while shaving with the cheap razors he stole from Daniel. Cracks and chips ran along the wooden frame, the medicine cabinet filled with an assortment of pain medication and bandages. They were too dirty for use, he thought to himself. The girl was lying on the carpet, her head rested at odd angles against a dirtied tee shirt. He cleared off the top of his bed with one arm, and placed her on top.

She was shivering. He didn't have blankets. He picked up his trench coat from the ground and covered her, watching in slight amusement as she pulled the fabric closer to herself. He checked on her one last time before leaving his apartment, locking the door behind himself.

"Daniel." Rorschach growled under his mask. Daniel rocketed himself out of bed with incredible speed, forcing his glasses from the night stand onto his clammy face.

"Ro...Rorschach?" He stuttered into the darkness. Rorschach nodded, the glowing street lamps from outside lighting up his figure. Daniel looked to the small alarm clock, of his own invention, and looked fiercely back at him. "It's 4:30 in the morning," he began, his words hissing out from under his breath "this better be good."

"Girl, found, needs help." Rorschach said, in his usual cryptic speech. Daniel rubbed his face with aggravation, and rose out of the bed. Rorschach felt the heat crawl to his face as Daniel kissed the sleeping Laurie nestled against his chest. "Does she usually sleep naked?" Rorschach asked, no humor in his voice.

"Jesus Christ..." Daniel almost hollered, and quickly covered the Silk Specter with the blanket. Laurie mumbled something before turning over.

"Grab a first aid kit, and some blankets."

"Seeing as all the ones in you apartment are filthy." Daniel grumbled as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet, much cleaner than Rorschach's own. He pulled out a small, red first aid kit and handed it to him. "You look....different." Daniel said as he ran his eyes up and down the smaller man's body.

"Coat, using as blanket." He said. Daniel half smiled. He made his way to the linen closet, and stuffed his arms with a few old blankets.

"It's quicker to take the old subway route." Daniel said.

"How I got in here." Rorschach said. Daniel rolled his eyes, realizing he left the door unlocked. But then again, it was Rorschach, and he would have broken in regardless. Befriending his ex crime fighting partner was like befriending a rock, a crazy rock that would show his affection through awkward handshakes and who wouldn't hesitate to drop him down an elevator shaft. Rorschach watch in faint curiosity as Daniel smirked to himself.

A cool breeze rushed past Rorschach's arms as Daniel opened the heavy door. Daniel grabbed his goggles, securing them to his head. He ran his hand against Archie as the two made their way back to the apartment complex, every so often exchanging small talk.

"You don't have a can of lysol or anything, do you?" Daniel said in between gagged breaths. Rorschach merely pointed to his bed. "My god, she's freezing." Daniel said as he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. "You," he pointed sternly to Rorschach "keep her warm. I'm running a bath."

"The bath is dirty." Rorschach said, trying to get Daniel distracted.

"I'll fill it up with soap and water and drain it, that should get it clean, god forbid you actually have any soap around here." While Daniel was rummaging around in his bathroom, Rorschach looked down at the girl. Her muddy converse shoes only added to the darkened brown color of his once white sheets. He untied them timidly, and threw them down onto the floor. Her socks were even dirtier. Whores wore high heels, boots and thin strap sandals. There was nothing slut like about her shoes at all. In fact, Rorschach found it quirky. They stirred up a distant memory, of running in grass with new shoes.

"I managed to find an old bottle of castile soap underneath your sink." Daniel shouted from the bathroom. "Bring her in!" He said. Rorschach lifted the dead weight into his arms, and walked into the bathroom. He dumped her down onto the toilet seat, watching as Daniel gave him an agitated stare. Daniel shuffled his body over to meet the girl's knees. He began gently tugging at her sweater, trying to get the fabric over her arms. Rorschach turned his head away.

"Come on now, Rorschach, she's only a female. I thought you would have been used to the other gender by now. Breast's won't bite." He said, a half hearted laugh coming from throat as he threw the sweater down on the ground. Rorschach felt that dirty feeling creep up on his stomach again, his palms sweating and his gut knotting. Her head hung limp and was rested upon the tiled counter. Her bra wasn't too small, and it didn't force her breasts up and out of her shirt. It was a plain, creamy beige color with no lace or frilly things to suggest that someone either than herself was going to be looking at her.

"Damn it, Laurie's calling me." Daniel said as he looked at his watch, one of his inventions that he got form a comic book. "You'll be fine, Rorschach. Get over your fear, I have faith."

"Your sarcasm is appreciated..." Rorschach mumbled. Daniel let out a chortle as he walked out of the door, bidding Rorschach good night, when it was really 5:00 am.

_Rorschach's Journal, November 9, 1985_

_Girl is in apartment now, she is a good girl, not a whore. Will clean her up, heal. _

_Hopefully. _

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R&R!!!!


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